Risotto, Rivalries, and the Flame of Ambition

The aroma of simmering broth filled the kitchen like a comforting blanket.

A pot of golden chicken broth gently bubbled over low heat, sending up steam laced with the warm fragrance of slow-cooked poultry and aromatic herbs.

In a nearby pan, two tablespoons of olive oil shimmered in the heat. As soon as the sliced mushrooms hit the pan, they sizzled cheerfully, releasing their earthy fragrance.

Megumi stirred patiently, watching as the mushrooms softened and darkened, glistening in their juices. After five minutes, she set them aside with care, not letting a single drop of umami escape.

Next came the onions, thinly sliced and glistening with oil. A tablespoon more of olive oil hissed as the pan welcomed them. Megumi sautéed gently, stirring for exactly one minute.

Then came the rice—short-grain Arborio, each grain plump and pearly.

She poured it in with confidence, stirring continuously to coat every grain. Slowly, the rice turned translucent at the edges, then golden at the tips, a sure sign that it was ready.

In went the dry white wine, hissing on contact. The kitchen filled with the heady, complex aroma of wine evaporating, binding the flavors together.

Finally, after the wine was fully absorbed, she took the pan off the heat and added the sautéed mushrooms, their reserved juices, chopped green onions, a generous handful of grated Parmesan, and a whisper of salt and freshly ground black pepper.

She stirred slowly, folding the creamy rice gently, watching it become something complete.

A simple mushroom risotto, born of humble ingredients and patient hands.

"Very good!"

Standing nearby, Orie Sendawara folded her arms and gave a satisfied nod. "You're improving quickly, Megumi."

She walked closer and scooped up a spoonful without hesitation. As it touched her tongue, her expression changed instantly.

The taste unfolded like a story.

The savory depth of the mushroom broth blended into the mellow, creamy softness of the rice. Bits of green onion cut through with freshness, while the Parmesan coated everything in a rich umami sheen. The mushrooms retained just enough chew to contrast the velvety grains.

"It's quite good," Orie said, eyes lighting up. "The rice is fragrant, the mushrooms are rich, and the timing is impeccable. Even the cucumber garnish adds brightness."

Then, she took another bite.

This one, slower—savoring the way the flavors built with each chew.

"The broth is exceptional," she added thoughtfully. "It clings to each grain just right—not watery, not greasy. Every element is balanced. Well done."

Megumi twisted her fingers together, watching anxiously.

"Senior…" she asked softly. "Do you think this dish meets your standards?"

Orie pondered for a moment, her spoon clinking softly against the bowl.

"There are flaws," she admitted. "But… it's on par with the assistant chefs at Kirinoya."

Megumi's eyes widened.

That was high praise.

But Orie wasn't done.

"Still, remember something, Megumi," she continued, her voice becoming firm. "The purpose of this internship isn't just to improve your skills."

She looked Megumi straight in the eyes.

"It's to bring change to my restaurant through your presence."

Megumi blinked, stunned.

But after a moment, she nodded seriously. "Yes. I understand."

Orie smiled, patting her shoulder.

"No need to rush. You've got two weeks. That's plenty of time to figure out your direction."

In truth, Megumi was feeling the pressure.

More than anyone.

Her mind kept returning to the start of the school year—how poorly she'd done in early exams, how she barely scraped through the dorm trials, and how close she came to being expelled.

Even though she had fought through the Autumn Selection, surviving every battle with grit and heart, the fear lingered.

She didn't want to be left behind again.

She didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Especially not… him.

Her cheeks turned red.

If only she had been assigned to the tavern.

If only she could have interned under Zane—that gentle, mysterious, and infuriatingly kind tavern owner who had already left a mark on her heart.

Megumi's mind wandered, the image of Zane in his kitchen, sleeves rolled up, smiling under warm lights, hovering in her thoughts.

"Megumi, what are you thinking?"

Orie's voice brought her back. She blinked rapidly.

"I… I wasn't thinking of anything!" she said, flustered.

Orie stared for a beat… then sighed, bemused.

"Since your risotto's improved, I'll give you a promotion."

"Huh?"

"You'll assist me directly now—as my sous chef."

"What? Me? I—" Megumi gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yes. You're ready."

"Thank you, senior!" she said, bowing deeply. Her voice trembled, but her heart was filled with joy.

If two things could move the five senses beyond reason—

It would be love and food.

A slice of baguette. A flake of croissant. A warm cup of coffee.

Each simple in itself.

But placed in a proper meal, they became a ritual.

SHINO'S: Another StageElsewhere, in the heart of Tokyo, a sleek new restaurant had just seated its first guests.

Inside the gleaming kitchen of SHINO'S, the tension was palpable.

"Alright!" came the sharp voice of Kojiro Shinomiya, clad in his crisp white uniform. "First table seated. Let's move!"

"Yes, Chef!"

All around, chefs leapt into motion.

To Yukihira Soma, the contrast was overwhelming.

He'd grown up in a humble diner.

This… this was a battlefield.

"Whoa, everyone's so quiet and fast," Soma muttered.

"Intern, quiet," Shinomiya snapped without looking up. "Distract the brigade again, and you're clearing tables."

"Yes, Chef!"

Soma straightened, face serious.

Despite the pressure, he couldn't help but admire the rhythm of the kitchen.

The veal stew he plated had gone to table one.

The guest's face lit up instantly.

"This blanquette de veau… incredible," he whispered.

The velvety sauce clung to the meat and potatoes perfectly.

A bite of veal—tender, buttery, cooked to perfection.

The potatoes—firm at the edges, creamy at the center, kissed by herbs.

This was Shinomiya's world-class mastery. A pinnacle of French cuisine, rooted in technique and elegance.

"Shinomiya, it's wonderful you opened this place in Japan," the guest said afterward, bowing slightly.

Shinomiya gave a small, respectful nod.

"Thank you. Your support is appreciated."

Years ago, he had been arrogant and closed off.

But now?

He had returned to Japan to rebuild.

And perhaps… redeem.

Back at the TavernThat night, a different kind of aroma filled the tavern.

Okonomiyaki—griddle-seared to golden perfection.

Cabbage, kimchi, pork belly, green onions—all mixed with flour and egg, forming a thick batter.

Grilled until crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside.

Topped with bonito flakes, seaweed powder, mayonnaise, and the tavern's special okonomiyaki sauce, made from simmered fruits, soy, and spices.

In the corner, a beautiful woman took a bite—and sighed in delight.

"Mmm~ This is amazing."

Under the warm tavern lights, her long silver hair gleamed like moonlight.

Wearing a blue chiffon dress with lace and a bow at the waist, Leonora Nakiri looked like she'd stepped from a fashion magazine.

She took another bite and hummed contentedly.

"Excellent harmony," she murmured. "The vegetables are crisp, the pork rich, the sauce deeply layered."

She sipped red wine, pairing it like a pro.

Then her gaze lifted—and landed on her daughter.

"Alice, I just arrived, and you're already working?"

Alice looked up, surprised—and slightly annoyed.

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

Leonora smiled. "Well, you're interning at a tavern. I had to check in."

She leaned forward, eyes twinkling.

"And also, I heard Zane's quite the catch."

"M-Mother!" Alice shrieked, blushing furiously.

Leonora laughed, sipping her wine.

From the kitchen, Erina and Zane peered out in confusion.

"Did something explode out there?" Zane asked.

"I think Alice's ego just suffered a critical hit," Erina replied with a smirk.